


Miruvor

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4041646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After letting Bill go, Frodo tries to cheer Sam up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Miruvor

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Based on p399 and 406 of The Fellowship of the Ring, wherein Sam says a tearful goodbye to Bill and has to choose between him and Frodo.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

It’s a dark, grim place to be, even with food in his hands—which there’s very little of. They don’t know when they’ll reach the other side, so they have to be careful with the water. It’s ironic, given the lake they’ve just crossed, but no one wants to risk opening the stone gates to sip the black water, where the beast or beasts full of tentacles nearly dragged Frodo to his doom. 

Frodo whispers a quiet, “Thank you,” again, sitting just at Sam’s side. The company is strewn out about the steps, huddled in the dark with only Gandalf’s dull staff to light them. They can’t go on again, not just yet, not after everything they’ve been through. So they sit, shaken and spread, and finish up their crumbs. Sam gives Frodo a weak smile that he can’t put much behind. When he first saw that creeping vine wrap around Frodo’s ankle, his whole heart froze over.

Somehow, he hacked the tentacle away. He pulled his master to safety, and Frodo clung to him, shaking and terrified, Sam too frightened to enjoy the embrace. He would’ve never thought himself brave enough to stab such a thing, but when Frodo needed him, he was _there._ He’ll protect Frodo no matter what. He knows that now. And Frodo looks so _grateful_ for it, with his pretty blue eyes enough to pierce even Moria’s darkness, his pale lips drawn up at the sight of his Sam. His beauty’s ruffled, smudged here and there, but in no way tarnished, and it helps give Sam hope. He tries to focus on that and let Frodo’s light fill him. 

But he must not be doing very well, because Frodo murmurs, “I’m sorry you had to pick me over Bill.”

The mere mention of his lost pony makes Sam wince. He’d grown so fond of the loyal creature, and to think of their faithful steed all alone with the wolves and water snakes makes him shiver. For Frodo’s sake, he tries not to think about it. He shakes his head and sighs, “It wasn’t much of a choice.”

Frodo’s little hand lands on Sam’s thigh. Frodo’s always been thin for a hobbit, but he’s lost even more weight on the journey, and his hand looks so _tiny_ against the fat of Sam’s leg, fragile and vulnerable. Frodo says, “Sorry.”

Sam mutters back, “No, I didn’t mean that I had to think about it. I’d follow you _anywhere_.” Frodo smiles sadly: maybe he knows. 

He whispers, “I’ll try to make up for the hole Bill left behind.”

For a moment, Sam looks at him curiously. Bill was many things to Sam, but a companion most of all: his time with the elves seemed to make him more intelligent than any other beast Sam’s ever known, and he dependably followed Sam through such peril, even through the river of snow up the mountain. Slowly, Sam insists, “I won’t let my master carry more than need be.” Although Frodo couldn’t have meant to carry much anyway—they didn’t manage to get all of Bill’s supplies inside before the gates shut, and there are stronger men in their company. 

Frodo replies gently, “Sam, you didn’t like Bill for that.”

Sam would ask what Frodo meant, then, but he doesn’t get the chance. They’re already sitting close—much closer than the others—probably so Frodo could show Sam his gratitude. But now Frodo shuffles closer still, until their legs are touching, and he leans sideways to press his face into Sam’s honey hair. Sam has a hitch of breath at the contact. Frodo nuzzles sweetly into him, mostly in his curls but a bit over his cheek and temple. Then Frodo draws back, the tip of his small nose pressed against the shell of Sam’s ear, just like Bill did when Sam had to say goodbye.

But Bill was a pony and Frodo’s _his master_ , and it makes Sam lose his breath. Frodo stays there, pressed into Sam’s side, turned so his lithe chest is along Sam’s arm. It takes Sam a minute to manage, “What are you doing?”

“Giving you that affection,” Frodo whispers, snuggling against him again, indeed like an animal but so much more _intimate_ , because he’s a sentient being _that Sam could love_.

Another shiver twists its way down Sam’s spine, and he breathes, “ _Mr. Frodo._ ”

Frodo stops. He seems to hesitate, and he slowly pulls away, only to press a firm, fleeting kiss to Sam’s cheek. The warmth of it lingers and tickles. Frodo murmurs, “Sorry.”

Sam puts his hand over Frodo’s, still in his lap. He doesn’t know what Frodo means by all of that. Frodo _kissed_ him. It could just be familial, on the cheek like that: a small token, a thank you. But Sam’s wanted to kiss his gorgeous master for _so long_ , and if Frodo meant that affection differently...

At least now, Moria doesn’t seem so insurmountable. It’s still terrifying, towering, dark and full of dangers, but he _has Frodo_ , and sometimes, that’s all that matters. He wants to turn right now and kiss Frodo _hard_ , on the lips. Not like a hobbit and a pony. He wants to dive his tongue into Frodo’s mouth, pull Frodo up by the waist and hug him close, comfort him the way he deserves. For the first time, Sam thinks Frodo might let him.

But before he can, Gandalf rises, brushing the dust off his lap and announcing to all, “We had best be on the move again.” 

Frodo sighs, “So much for that.” Sam doesn’t want to get up.

Before he can, Frodo grabs his arm, leaning to purr against his ear, “I can’t carry you through the mines, but once we rest, you’re free to mount me, Sam.” A vibrant blush spreads over Sam’s cheeks, creeping right down his neck. 

And Frodo gets up to join Merry and Pippin. The only choice Sam ever had was to follow.


End file.
